Matanchen via Isla Isabel
- Capt. Eric
- Apr 14
- 6 min read
With a little over 90 miles to Isla Isabel we left Mazatlan just before sunset, to arrive at the exposed anchorages of the island in the morning. We had an old swell all along, and the boat rolled gently, the motion slowed down by our passive stabilizers.
Isla Isabel is known as the Mexican Galapagos, a Mexican National park and UN protected site, where many species of birds come to nest away from any predators. Like the Galapagos, the island is too far offshore and too isolated for predators to take hold.
The far away volcanic island offers little protection from the open ocean, so we needed a great weather window to approach it. Even on this beautiful calm morning, we had a hard time finding a calm anchorage spot.
It took us over an hour to explore the west coast, searching for an elusive swell free spot. Time well spent for sure, as the rugged island is magnificent and the rich clear waters team up with life. A mother humpback whale and her calf were also paralleling the coast, and we left them well alone, enjoying the spectacle.
Eventually I settled on a rocky outcrop just offshore from the only sandy beach this side of the island and anchored in 20 feet of water. Once we knew the boat had settled safely, Di and I took the kayak ashore (Princess isn't allowed in the reserve) and went for a walk. We had to fight big surf to land on the beach. We didn't capsize or splash, more luck than skill, but came very close. I was glad to have left my phone on the boat.
Walking ashore had a surreal element to it: Just as we'd been told, the local birds had absolutely no fear of humans. We kept reasonable distances nevertheless, but the birds never showed any signs of stress. They were rather curious instead, looking at us as if we were some kind of weird birds ourselves.
This reminded us of our fantastic trip to Antarctica years ago, where the penguins would come up to us full of curiosity, especially when we didn't make eye contact with them.
We fought the surf back out to get back to Princess and the boat, stowing the kayak on its rail, ready to leave immediately if the weather changed.
The weather held overnight and we left at sunrise. I ran the generator to power the water maker and make best use of the clear waters to refill our tanks. The passage took just over 7 hours of offshore cruising, yet the sounder often had us in 50 feet of water only. Even more surprising, but luckily well charted, our course took us close to a white rock miles away from shore. I can only imagine early navigators exploring these waters with no or very imprecise charts suddenly finding such a danger in front of them.
Matanchen Bay looked like a decent anchorage on paper, but the bay is very shallow, with most of it being less than 10 feet deep. Tides are much less pronounced around these parts than when we were in the North of the Sea, but still need to be accounted for. I went in as far as I dared, dropping the anchor in 15 feet of water. We were still slightly over half a mile away from the beach, and fairly open to ocean swells. Luckily our flopper stopper does a great job keeping the boat comfortable in moderate swells.
We decided to swap the kayak for the tender to go ashore. It had been over a year we hadn't used it so I was well pleased when its motor started on first try of the electric starter. I had done minimal necessary maintenance on it, making sure the battery was charged and the necessary grease points were serviced.
The distance to shore proved a good thing, isolating us from the loud music blaring from every bar and restaurant, as well as keeping some of the banana inflatable towing boats and jet skis away from us.
Arriving ashore was a huge shock. We'd suddenly arrived in a tropical jungle after months and months in the desert. Large coconut trees, a spring fed river nearby, lush vegetation.
Even Isla Isabel had desert type vegetation: Hardy bushes and trees that grow slowly by making the best of the little humidity they manage to draw out of the air. Yet, without any transition we arrived in the jungle, with local pangas even offering "jungle tours" and crocodile encounters. Di, with her Puerto Rican roots, felt at home in front of the green mountains.
The beach was huge, going on for miles, with the western most part being built up with many palapas, restaurants and shops. With "Semana Santa" in full swing it proved a very popular destination for Mexican families. Throngs of kids enjoying the warm and safe shallow waters while parents stayed in the shade. Many coming up to Princess to investigate this weird but beautiful animal. "Lobo?" they'd ask (Wolf?) and we'd tell them she isn't, and let them pet her. Princess simply loves kids, and is always very patient with them, so it was fun for all.
Still, Princess clearly preferred the East side of the beach, empty of any construction, where we could let her run at the end of her very long rope.
There the beach was less protected, so we had to be more careful when approaching by tender. I'd bring us as close as possible to stay outside of the surf line, Di would throw the anchor and we'd all jump in the water. Beaching this tender is almost impossible: It's too big and heavy, a choice we made to ensure we'd have a nearly indestructible hull that could take hits on rocks and trees in the North. Here a lighter inflatable would be great, but Enfin simply doesn't have enough room to add another choice. So hard tender or kayak it is.
Like so often in a pleasant anchorage, we enjoyed our days, falling in some sort of routine. Mornings we'd lower the tender, go for a long shore walk, before getting back for a hearty Mexican style brunch on board. Some routine and normal maintenance, some lazing about and we'd be back on the tender for the second and last walk of the day.
Getting back to the boat we'd raise the tender back up on the upper deck, mostly as a theft deterrent but also as a simple safety measure should we need to leave in a hurry at night in changing weather.
It is unfortunate, but ever since we've made it to the continent we've been hearing stories of stolen tenders. It isn't a Mexican problem only, as tender theft has been reported in anchorages all around the world, but it is a reminder that we cruisers live a very rich life compared to many ashore. An expensive tender, and even more importantly its outboard motor, is a juicy target for some. For us, the tender is our car, our main transportation ashore in many anchorages, so we don't hesitate to take the extra time to secure it properly at night. Local authorities and tourism dependent businesses do their best, often very successfully, to keep thieves and scammers at bay.
Once in a while we're told of a story (or an urban legend?) of thieves disappearing, tenders reappearing, authorities cracking down in mass at the slightest indication of illegal activity. We have no idea which to believe, but so far have found that like most cruisers, and really most people anywhere in the world, taking basic common sense precautions is enough.
Leaving an expensive tender that costs the same as a small car, unsecured with only a small rope to tie it off your stern at night, isn't something we'd want to do anywhere. Similarly we wouldn't leave our car unattended with windows down and keys in the ignition if we were ashore. Being a tourist in a foreign land doesn't mean taking leave of your common sense.
Staying put for almost 2 weeks, we saw cruisers come and go, with a good number stopping by to say hello. We often do the same in anchorages and go meet our neighbors: Not only does it allow us to meet plenty of interesting people with varying experiences, sharing tips and information, it also provides an extra sense of security when we know who our neighbors are and who should be on their boats.
Eventually it was time to move on. With plenty of time left before our mid May reservation in Puerto Paradise, we're heading for nearby Chacala, the next small bay down the coast where we hope to continue enjoying the perfect spring weather before the summer heat has us hide in the AC cool.
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